Miller High Marching Band
by Mizz Brainiac
Summary: This is what happens when you have a crazy band and think to yourself "There are worse..." and then start to pondering what could possibly be crazier... Miller High would probably be that band. Whoo! Go Horseflies!


**Let's go, Horseflies, let's go! Whoo! I now present to you Miller High's marching band-which I haven't been able to come up with an appropriate name for yet... the Carcas is very tempting. If you have any ideas-mention them in your reviews!**

**Chapter 1**

"Mr. Vix! AH!" Courtney raced behind the band director, her face painted in performance make up and her sparkly red color guard uniform fitting tightly.

Mr. Carl Vixen blinked, uncertain if he _really _wanted to know what was going on.

Hal, built large with a large curly nest of sandy hair atop his head, came running toward Mr. Vix with a sock in hand. "Smell it!"

Courtney glared and shrieked, "Keep that thing away from me! Who knows how many funguses are growing on it!"

Mr. Vixen rolled his eyes, "Hal, put your sock back on your foot."

"This isn't _my _sock—this is _the _sock." A clever grin spread across Hal's face at the opportunity to share the story of _the _sock. "Eight years ago this sock was found in an old locker that had been around since '88. It was yellow when they found it—now it's turning green—see?"

As Hal tried to shove it in his face for him to see the green growth on the sock, Mr. Vix staggered back. "I-I'd rather not."

Courtney made a face. "You're so _gross_!"

Hal smirked, "Oh, sorry, I forgot—ladies first!"

With a shriek, Courtney jazz-ran across the band hall to get away from the green sock Hal chased her with.

_Quite the welcome_, thought Mr. Vix. It was his first year working at Miller High, or any school for that matter, and already he had come in contact with so many strange things. He had been around for long enough to know that this was Hal _without_ any sort of sugar in his system.

Mr. Vixen shook his head. This was going to be a long game, he just new it. The first game of the season, his very first game as a band director—he wanted to knock the socks off of Jersey. He cringed at the metaphor. _Socks… I'll never look at them the same again._

Janice Smithers approached him. In the few weeks he had known her, he realized that she really needed to pull the stick out of her… Well, she was more uptight than he was. Which was saying a lot. But she was one of his better students. Always there to help, rarely having to be told to do so. She made people do right in her section. Mr. Vixen could tell she was focused on becoming Drum Major. If only she'd loosen up just a taaad…

"The instruments are loaded on the trailers and everyone's present, sir. Buses one and two are here but the color guard's bus is still on the way due to a minor delay," Janice informed.

Mr. Vixen raised his eyebrows slightly. She sounded so military. "Alright then, we'll, uh, just wait."

Janice suggested, "Or you could call them all to attention and tell them your expectations for tonight's performance."

"Uhh, thank you, Janice. I was going to do that." He wanted to say something more along the lines of _why don't you be the band director, Missy?_ But of course that was immature and _unprofessional. _And she'd probably accept the offer which defeated the point of the sarcastic remark.

Janice nodded to him before turning on her heal and going to her section, her back as straight as a pole. It made Mr. Vixen wonder if there really was one jabbed up… Game!—he needed to focus on the game.

Then another thought hit him—where was his Drum Major?

He looked around. Janice had said everyone was accounted for so where was— Of course. Justin was with the drum line working them. He usually always was. If he could keep the drum line together and with him and the rest of the band stick with the drum line's beat, things would be fine. Relatively. Then again he could just be harassing the only female bass drummer. Harassing or flirting?—there was hardly a difference.

Mr. Vixen approached the drum line fearful of what he might see as far as "harassment." To his relief, Justin was just working with the snares on how they'd best communicate with each other from their sets. Justin looked up, locked eyes with him and nodded with one of those just-a-minute looks. Mr. Vixen was rather proud of his Drum Major—of how capable and hard working he was with the band. It stunned him at how mature he appeared. But then he'd see him flirting with the unmoved Charlie Davis, who despite her name was female, and he'd be reminded that Justin was still a teenage boy.

Speaking of teenage boys…

"Eat it!"

"Hal, you sick little—Gah! Mr. Vix!"

Mr. Vixen face-palmed. _Really? The saxophone girls now?_

"Mr. Vix!" A trombone came up behind him and pointed to a measure on his music. "You still want us not to play here?"

With a nod, he replied, "Yes that part's played by nearly all the low brass, and it's overpowering the melody—"

"Mr. Vix! We can't find Tiny!" said one of the three flutes, her voice on the verge if panic.

_Great,_ he thought. The four-foot-seven flute player, James Tyson, always seemed to go missing. He raised his hand in the air to quiet down the band. "Has anyone seen Jimmy?"

Blank looks stared back at him.

He rephrased. "Has anyone seen Tiny?"

There was a wave of 'Oh!'s and people started talking all at once.

Then Jackson, a tuba player like Hal, called out with a very deep voice. "He's stuck in the tuba!"

Mr. Vixen turned around quickly to see a scene straight out of a cartoon. Jackson, who was bigger than some of the football players in both height and width, was using his foot to hold the tuba down and was pulling on a pair of scrawny legs that was all anyone could see of Tiny.

Distraught, Mr. Vixen held a hand to the side of his forehead, "How did he get in the tuba!"

There was a muffled shrill voice that came through the mouthpiece of the tuba which was clearly Tiny trying to explain why he was in the tuba.

Mr. Vixen sighed, going to Jackson to help pull tiny out, "Lovely, just wonderful—someone get the nurse!"

"It's after school, Mr. Vix," said a baritone player, "The nurse isn't here."

Vixen grabbed hold of one of Tiny's legs and pulled with Jackson's assistance. "Then, get some butter!"

Janice called out, "The color guard's bus is here!"

The strain of trying to pull Tiny out clear in his voice, Mr. Vixen called out, "Wonderful—Butter!"

As several students frantically searched for a stick of butter or grease or something, others watched casually like it was a normal thing. Using cork grease and valve oil, Mr. Vixen and Jackson finally pulled Tiny free. Before he could question Tiny, Janice's voice rang out.

"Mr. Vixen! It's seven minutes past departure time!"

He stood and quickly announced, "Load up! Orderly now!"

As he hurriedly gathered his things for the game, he thought, _What a lovely way to start the first game of the season…_

**Is high school band really this crazy? I don't know about yours but mine certainly is close. Review! Or else…**

**Hal: *chases those who don't review with a sock* Eat it!**


End file.
